


Yesterday's Dreams, Tomorrow's Promises

by josiepug



Series: Catelyn Tarth [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Post - A Dance With Dragons, more angst than fluff tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 18:44:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1952058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/josiepug/pseuds/josiepug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The second installment in the Catelyn Tarth series. Tarth is expecting a new heir, but Jaime and Brienne are realizing that the past does not like to be forgotten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> I'm feeling sort of insecure about this bit for some reason but I don't know what to fix so here it is. Enjoy.

_The Red Keep was eerily silent after the chaos outside. The myriad passages floated by, insignificant, until he reached the door. There was a noise coming from inside. A sobbing, gasping, horrible noise. He knew what he would find before he turned the handle, but he couldn’t stop himself. He opened the door._

_She was sitting on the bed, just as he knew she would be. The knife was bloody in her hands. He was always too late. She had been staring at the blood, crying, but she looked up at his approach. “No one can take him away from me now. Ever. He’s finally safe.” Her voice was quiet, broken. And yet somehow, covered in blood and tears, she was more beautiful than she had ever been. More beautiful than he had ever dreamt._

_Tommen’s corpse bled sluggishly at her feet._

_He took a step forward. The anger and the grief felt detached, as though emotions belonged to another person. “What have you done?” His voice too sounded faint, not quite real. Cersei’s eyes were wild, feral. The eyes of a lioness._

_“The Dragon Queen will kill us all. All this time I thought Margaery, but…she’s coming.” Suddenly, she stopped crying, and he saw the Queen she had once been. “She will never take me alive. She will never take any of this from me. I am the Queen. I can stop the prophecy. I can make us safe again.” She reached out for him. “Stay with me, Jaime. We came into this world together, and together we can leave it. I will send for Qyburn. The wildfire…he knows my orders.”_

_He took another step, almost touching his sister now. He realized what he must do. Some part of him had known it all along. So unoriginal. Later, he would hunt Qyburn down. He had played this game before._

_He reached out to touch her face with his left hand, gently. She leaned into his fingers as his hand slid down, and wrapped itself around her pale, white throat. Her red-rimmed eyes met his and widened._

_“Oh,” she whispered as his grip tightened, the gold hand coming up to steady the flesh one. “Valonqar.”_

_The light left her eyes slowly, and he felt a part of him follow her into the abyss. Her body lay on the bed. An aging, empty shell. Her beauty had fled with the light in her eyes. Nothing remained. Just a corpse. Like a million others._

_And then she spoke again, her dead mouth moving, emitting a terrible croak. He recoiled. This shouldn’t be happening. “Jaime. Jaime. Jaime.”_

“Jaime. Wake up!” And it wasn’t Cersei who was calling to him now. It was Brienne. 

“Brienne.” The sweat covering his body mixed with the tears streaking on his face, and when he raised a hand to brush the hair out of his eyes, he realized he was shaking. “I’m fine,” he said, turning over to take refuge in her eyes. His dear wench was propped laboriously on one elbow, the other hand leaving his shoulder to settle back on her heavily pregnant belly. Her sapphire eyes were narrowed with concern. He tried to smile at her, but it came out as more of a grimace.

“You were dreaming about what happened, again. In the Red Keep.” _She always knows._ Jaime felt guilt wash over him in a suffocating wave. Of all the horrible things that he had seen and done, this was the one that plagued him the most often. He didn’t deserve Brienne. She was better than this. Better than him. Better than a man who would get her pregnant while being unable to marry her. A man who would share her bed and then make her comfort him when he dreamed of killing his other lover. _Will I never be free of Cersei?_

He knew the answer. And worse, so did Brienne. And yet still, she kept him by her side. Welcomed him onto Tarth when he had no place else to go. Gave him a position that he loved as Master at Arms. Let him sleep with her as even Cersei never had. Just lying side by side.

Brienne reached over to brush strong fingers through his damp hair. He was always surprised at how gentle she could be. _At Harrenhal…_

“You’re still shaking, Jaime.” 

Her furrowed brow was oddly adorable against her massive frame, made even bigger by pregnancy. This time his smile was more genuine. “I’m alright, Brienne. How did you sleep?”

Neither of them were new to night terrors, and once she had made sure he was recovering, she relaxed. Her crooked teeth poked out when she smiled. “It better not be long now. I can’t decide who kicked me more last night. You or the baby.” Jaime laughed quietly. Of late, Brienne had been heard to claim that the creature in her stomach had eight legs. 

Jaime rolled across the bed until they were touching. “Oh my poor, tender wench is being kicked. I don’t think she can handle it. Whatever shall I do to protect her?” He planted a kiss on her eye and then rolled away before she decided to smack him. Surprisingly, Brienne just looked thoughtful. He waited for her to say what was on her mind. After a moment, she complied.

“Don’t you think people have realized that the Master at Arms has never actually slept in his own chambers? And since I’m pregnant…” They had talked about this before.

“Brienne, of course they’ve noticed. But you rule your island well, and all the small folk have bread in their bellies. From my experience, that’s all they really care about in the end. Most of them know who I really am as well, but I haven’t lost my head yet. It’ll be fine. Besides, gossip is so much more fun when it doesn’t end in mortal injury. But,” He rolled regretfully away from her, “I do think they might begin to talk if I don’t show up for morning lessons. I’ll see you later, wench. Don’t get yourself stabbed in the stomach when I’m not around to protect your defenseless being.” He hopped out of bed, just escaping Brienne’s slap. Cackling, he found his breeches, feeling much better for having teased her a bit.

He heard Brienne shout after him as he raced out the door, “You know I’ve still saved you more times than you have me. It’s more likely I’ll be the one protecting you, old man!”


	2. Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day has come...

_Did it take this long with Cersei?_ Jaime couldn’t remember, and it was killing him. He paced the hallway outside of Brienne’s chambers, feeling more useless than after he’d first lost his hand. He wished he had his sword, not that that would help. He feared his feet were beginning to wear grooves into the stone. But he wasn’t concerned about his tired feet.

Jaime’s heart constricted every time he heard a pained sound coming from beyond the door. Finally, frustrated, he kicked the wall, getting bruised toes for his trouble. _Bloody Maester. If anything happens to Brienne…_

But the threat was idle. Maester Carlyle was a kindly old man, who, though Jaime was loathe to admit it, was probably right to want the birthing room to himself. _It’s not as if I’d be helpful. Bloody useless._ If any of the inhabitants of Tarth found it strange that the Master at Arms would take such a vested interest in the Lady Brienne’s baby, they did not say anything. Jaime thought that their silence due, at least in part, to fear that one of them might take offense. The practice yard duels between Brienne and Jaime were legendary, and it was common knowledge that both of them had survived some of the worst battles against the Others. 

At this point, Jaime would willingly trade all his hard won skill with his left hand for Brienne to be alright. He couldn’t get her bright eyes out of his mind. She trusted him. 

Unbidden, he remembered his own father’s face when he had learned that Joanna had died birthing Tyrion. It was the only time that Jaime could remember that Tywin had looked human, and the desolation in his face haunted Jaime to this day. _It won’t happen again._

But there was nothing he could do if it did.

Ages seemed to have passed before the door to Brienne’s chambers opened. Maester Carlyle appeared in the doorway, and for a second, Jaime’s heart stopped beating. Then, seeing Jaime’s face, the maester smiled.

She’s alive. Jaime’s knees started to buckle with relief, and Maester Carlyle steadied him. _How embarrassing. Anyone would think I had never done this before._

But he hadn’t, not really. Not with Brienne.

The wench was reclining on the bed, propped up by pillows. Her hair was matted down with sweat, and the unbitten side of her face was nearly as red as the other one, but Jaime thought that her eyes had never shone more brilliantly. Looking down, he saw that her huge arms absolutely dwarfed the tiny bundle secured there. She smiled tiredly. “Jaime.” 

It was absurd how happy it still made him to hear her say his name. He knelt next to the bed. “Brienne. I’m not sure if you noticed, but you seem to have a child.” She didn’t dignify that with a response.

Instead, she said, “She’s a girl.” 

Jaime couldn’t decide whether her expression was happy or sad. He couldn’t blame her. Being the purportedly fairer sex had rarely worked out in her favor.

“Have you decided on a name yet?” Brienne opened her mouth, then closed it again, seemingly unsure as to what to say. Finally, she whispered:

“Catelyn. I wanted to name her Catelyn. Catelyn Tarth, if the Queen will legitimize her that is.”

For a moment, Jaime balked. “Seriously, wench? Catelyn? You do realize that the woman after which you want to name this girl hated my guts. She intentionally got me drunk and then put a sword to my throat, forcing me to swear probably the second most bothersome oath of my life. And you wish to name our _child_ after her?”

At Jaime’s outburst, Brienne cast an anxious look at Maester Carlyle, who was examining the drapes and seemed to have gone temporarily deaf. She turned back to him, her face, if possible, even redder than before. “Lady Catelyn was a noble and brave lady. And I…I think I owe her this, after everything.” Brienne looked down at the baby, refusing to meet his eyes. _Lady Stoneheart, of course. Brienne never got over stabbing her, even after I said that the oath did not count, that she wasn’t the lady she had been._ Jaime remembered how she’d turned on him then, shouting that Aerys wasn’t the kind of king worth protecting, but that that hadn’t helped him in the end. The memory still stung.

Jaime cupped her cheek, forcing her to look at him. “I told you that you could choose whichever name you wished, remember? I have been known to very occasionally keep promises. Catelyn Tarth she shall be, your heir and heir to this island. I believe I know how to get our lovely Queen Daenerys to legitimize her. Leave that to me.” 

Brienne’s smile was still shy. Years of being mocked for her teeth could not be erased overnight, no matter how endearing Jaime found them. “Thank you,” she whispered, yawning. Immediately, Maester Carlyle stepped in, apparently released from his spell of deaf and blindness. 

“The Lady Brienne must rest if she is to regain her strength. Ser Jaime, hold the young Lady Catelyn for a moment, if you will.” _So he had been listening._ Then what the maester had actually said sank in, and Jaime felt himself panicking slightly.

But Maester Carlyle was already holding Catelyn out to him, so he didn’t have much choice. Awkwardly, he took hold of her, trying to find somewhere to place his stump. _Gods, the child is tiny. And squirmy._ It seemed as if every time he got her settled, she would shift and some body part would get loose and he would have to start all over again to avoid dropping her. By the fourth time this happened, he knew he was blushing. “Sorry, I don’t…”

Brienne frowned, still awake despite her drooping eyelids. “You’ve had three children, Jaime. How do you not know how to hold a baby?”

He flushed even deeper. His response was uncharacteristically quiet. “I’ve never…she never let me hold them. Said it was too dangerous.”

Brienne’s frown deepened, but all she said was “Oh,” and closed her eyes.

Maester Carlyle again pretended to have no idea what was going on. “Well, I’ll be back in a moment to check on Lady Catelyn. I must return my things to my study.” He left the room with a maester’s telltale clanking.

Jaime sat down on the edge of the bed, finally seeming to get little Cat into a comfortable position, her head resting on the stump of his hand. _If Father could see me now, how he would rage._ For some reason, the thought didn’t make him feel as gleeful as usual. In fact, it made him a bit sad.

Cat’s weight felt strange in his arms, but it was not unwelcome. He had never held his other children, and it had never occurred to him that he was missing anything. In many ways, he thought little about his situation had changed. He seemed doomed to spend his entire life as a Lady’s paramour, never acknowledging his children, but this, holding Catelyn in his arms, made up for at least some of it. _Even if she is named bloody Catelyn._

For the first time, Jaime really looked into his daughter’s face. She was tiny and seemed to him to be not quite fully formed even though the maester had assured them that she was healthy. Her eyes were closed, but then, as if sensing his gaze, she opened them.

They were exact color of sapphires.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next installment will skip ahead a few years and be from Catelyn Tarth's perspective.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just going to go ahead and post the second chapter at the same time.


End file.
